


Destiny in Retrograde

by Psychic_Refugee



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychic_Refugee/pseuds/Psychic_Refugee
Summary: The Director was nearly omnipotent, able to track even the most minute changes to history and adapts to guide Travelers' missions for the Grand Plan.It could never have predicted the consequences of a girl who could read minds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Travelers and it makes me so sad there isn't more fanfiction! So I'm writing it myself. lol
> 
> As always, I make no le fric and all other useless disclaimers about how I don't own Travelers as Netflix has better things to do than sue a broke student which they would probably lose anyway due to Fair Use, 17 U.S.C. § 107. Also, if anyone asks this work is a nonprofit educational tool. ;-D

Bree was smart enough not to divulge that she had the ability to read minds.

Apparently she was the only one in her family that was.

Ever.

Literally.

 She wasn’t sure what it was about her cousins or ancestors that they felt the need to try to convince people they could read minds, but a family history of “schizophrenia” and institutionalization clued her in that it was a bad idea.

Perhaps she wasn’t powerful enough where the family gift overwhelmed her, she had no problem ignoring the various voices she heard in her head. It didn’t seem any different to her than being in a crowded restaurant with everyone talking at once. To her it was white noise and she could tune it out.

Maybe she had the advantage of being part of Gen Z and had the cognitive ability to take in so much outside stimuli and multi-task without stumbling. Maybe because all her peers and most adults were so focused in their own little world, either on their phone or tablet or just worried about their own life they didn’t have time to worry over others’, that they didn’t notice any slip up she might do such as answer a question that wasn’t asked out loud or if she looked like she was listening to something no one else could hear.

Maybe with the surge of ADHD or other cognitive problems, people brushed off her regular inability to pay attention.

Whatever the reason, she knew to keep a low profile and no one paid that much attention to her; she was able to act like any other family member without the gift and she learned from others’ mistakes.

It was hard to make friends, especially in the tight knit Seattle suburb she grew up in. She just knew too much about everyone, and none of them had ever divulged their inner workings. Bree didn’t know how to be friends with the people they faked to be when she could hear what they truly thought. She also didn’t think it right, she knew intimate secrets they wouldn’t want anyone to know about, much less her.

She had always felt uncomfortable around people, knowing them far too well far too soon. She had tried to fake smiles as people around her also faked their way through life. It became too exhausting, knowing the truth. Eventually she started to retreat into herself, took up art, and people just didn’t try when she didn’t try.

So she developed a loner reputation. No one had anything bad to say about her, she was perfectly polite and cordial when spoken too. But she just never clicked with anyone and she never put forth any effort to join any group. People just wrote her off as someone happy to be by themselves.

The only thing anyone knew about her was that she had a weird name and preferred to be called “Bree,” that she liked the draw and write in her journals, and she constantly had earbuds in.

Bree was a nobody at school, but she preferred it that way. The town was too small and too nosey for someone like her to do well. Her best hope was to lay low and survive through it.

The only time she ever caught anyone’s attention was the first day of class every year when she was in a new homeroom with a new teacher. Because of the PATRIOT Act, they would never just change her name in the school roster to “Bree.” They would always have her real full name and consistently she had to remind teachers to just call her by her nickname.

Homeroom was the most anxiety ridden class she ever had in all her years at Fairview High School.

It wasn’t a real class, just the first stop to make sure there weren’t any truant students. The teacher tried to be excited and happy they were all there, but Bree knew that in a few weeks the teacher would be as dead inside as the rest of them and questioning their life choices.

“Tara Armstrong?”

“Here”

“Mika Collins?”

“Here”

“Sebastian Edwards?”

“Present”

The roll call torturously stretched on and on, the teacher would call out a name and the student would unenthusiastically alert the teacher that while they may be there in body, it was mostly against their will and would mentally check out at the first available instance.

And like a movie where she had seen it a million times and knew down to the second everyone’s cue and lines, the teacher got to her name and there was a pause; a longer pause; then it was a tense awkward hostage situation. The teacher instinctively frowned as they came across a word they had never seen before; a word where they were unsure of its origin and couldn’t even begin to guess how to pronounce it. There were too many consonants and vowels in unfamiliar places, no obvious place to put the emphasis.

Her name was a clusterfuck and some days she truly hated her parents. 

The teachers always tried, by God did they try.

“Br-eye…? Lee…”

“Just call me Bree,” she would interrupt, knowing it was her name they were struggling with and in hopes of sparing them both the embarrassment. A tight grimace that she tried to pass off as a smile, to let the teachers know she wasn’t angry and just wanted to get on with the rest of the day. Most teachers were more than happy to accept the easy and normal sounding nickname and move on.

Sometimes the ordeal would be repeated, she loved the teachers who didn’t give a crap; the ones who thought that roll call was stupid and it was a waste of time. It was to the students’ detriment if they skipped and they weren’t there to hold their hands. The “real world” didn’t have roll call.

But normally that nightmare was only during the first days of school. She would be known as “Bree” thenceforth and the incident forgotten as soon as it happened.

She was grateful for being in the age of social media. It kept people occupied and attention away from her. If people thought it odd she didn’t have a profile on any social site, they soon forgot with the latest gossip and those who were so preoccupied with having the most followers and likes.

Instagram and Youtube stars were the golden calves that distracted the masses and allowed Bree to move about freely.

Bree knew from a young age that reading minds was not something everyone could do and certainly not something people would believe she could do.

She was also smart enough to realize that it was something she didn’t want people to believe she could do. She’s read and seen enough science fiction to know that there was probably some deep undercover part of the government that would lock her away and use her for her gifts. Or perhaps they would simply kill her so no hostile foreign government could use her against the United States. She wasn’t about to find out which it was, so she learned early on those voices she heard in her head that weren’t her own, were better kept to herself.

Perhaps it was also lucky, in the most fucked up way possible, for her that she had a cousin who had the same gift. That cousin was not as quiet about his gifts as she was of hers. Or she was young enough that any mention of mind reading was brushed off as having a vivid imagination.

He was the unlucky example she knew not to follow.

At the time, she was too young to understand why they put him away, but she understood enough that being put away was a bad thing and it was connected to their gift. When she got older and her powers increased and understood what happened, she knew to remain silent.

When her cousin committed suicide, she knew it was a secret she’d take to her grave.

Hearing the thoughts of her family members at his funeral, it was clear they pitied him but they would put him away even if they had a second chance. They would put anyone away who showed signs of the “family illness.”

So high school was not her time to stand out and be noticed. She figured college would be more her speed. She would go to some ultra-liberal university where it was acceptable, if not encouraged, to be a little eccentric.

She lived her life as quietly and unobtrusively as she could.

Her junior year of high school, she had started to notice something peculiar around town.

The voices had become background noise, like being in a crowded lunchroom where everyone was talking, the music was blasting, and if there were several TVs with several sport games on at once. It had taken some practice to keep her voice at an acceptable decibel; her earlier yelling had been brushed off as a hearing problem.

As she got older, she had started to recognize certain voices, some were just louder thinkers than others or she just listened in on them more often. She could admit that she liked to eavesdrop regularly on certain people since their inner life was more of a shit show than they led on, it was better than any daytime or teen soap opera. It helped to deal with the loneliness, kept her entertained for hours.

She would keep the gift a secret, but she was more than willing to use it to amuse herself.

Sometimes she liked to fantasize where she was Gossip Girl and could blackmail other students or even adults into doing her bidding or giving her money.

It was too bad that computers were not her forte and she was paranoid that the police, FBI, or whatever underground deep state government there was would trace her and she’d go to jail or worse.

But one of her favorite people to listen in on, a barista named Javi at her favorite independent coffee place, had changed. He looked exactly the same, but there was something off about him that she wasn’t sure what it was. Not only did he not make her macchiato the exact way she liked it, which after months of ordering the same drink was particularly odd, but his inner voice was different. It was as if an entirely new person had set up shop in his brain.

The voice in his head no longer matched the voice that came out of his mouth. The tone, accent, everything was different.

What was also odd, his voice no longer came in as clear. Normally when she heard voices, it was the same as if they were talking to her. Now, his voice kind of came and went, as if there was some sort of electrical interference or bad cell reception.

She also noticed that his voice wasn’t the only one in his head anymore. At first, she felt pity for Javi as she believed that perhaps he was showing signs of schizophrenia. There was so much she didn’t know about her powers or the human mind. She brushed it off, thinking he was mentally ill and her gift couldn’t pick up on his thoughts anymore because his mind was broken.

It wasn’t until several other people around the city were exhibiting the exact same signs that she started to suspect it wasn’t mental illness. She didn’t know all of them, of course, but ever since she could remember, inner voices always matched physical voices. At first she thought a couple people were normal enough. It’s a big city and mental health might not be talked about but it existed.

But then it was dozens of people, she started to suspect something was off. The fact that they all had similar thoughts they repeated also confirmed that something was going on.

What where the chances that dozens of people would repeat the same “protocols” in their head, over and over again?

Bree felt herself beginning some teen dystopian novel, so she decided it was not something she wanted to get involved in.

She was in the middle of her junior year, she didn’t have time to go on some weird adventure. So anyone who had that multiple voice, static issue she would ignore like any other white noise and focus on school. She didn’t care about “protocols, the Director, or Travelers.” That was decidedly none of her business and she wasn’t going to entangle herself with it. The rest of the year went by without an issue, she kept to her own business so nothing happened to her. At one point, she even forgot there was ever an issue.

It wasn’t until the school’s star quarterback’s inner voice also changed that Bree started to pay attention again.

* * *

 

Trevor Holden was the school’s biggest asshole and all-star bully.  He regularly shop lifted and stole his mother’s prescription pills. Normally Bree wouldn’t care, that kind of reckless behavior would only really hurt him, but he took out his massive amount of aggression out on other students.

He was a miserable dick and made sure everyone else around him was just as unhappy.

She didn’t understand why teachers never did anything about Trevor. He might have been the star quarterback and showed promise for the college league, but their town wasn’t that much into football. It wasn’t like they were in some backwards Texas town where the sport was the end all, be all for the school. But he would shove, hit, and verbally assault as he pleased.

She had even heard him be as rude to his parents as he was to his fellow students the rare times they showed up, and they just took it. She didn’t understand, he wasn’t **that** talented.

She lived a block down from him, they had been going to the same school since she could remember. He had been an alright kid up until middle school, when he got into football. Something about joining the sport and becoming an alpha male had given him liberty to do whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted; that alone would have been enough to ruin anyone’s character. His father Gary had grown up with the same entitlements and pressured his son to follow in his footsteps.

Trevor hadn’t gotten totally out of control until they reached high school. It wasn’t until then that he had really stepped up his cruelty and after a particularly harsh confrontation with him, she hadn’t spoken to him since and he was forbidden from the administration from talking to her after a complaint from her parents and a quasi-restraining order was put in place.

She knew in general what went on with him because his behavior caused him to be on several students minds.

Bree wasn’t the only one who thought Trevor deserved Asshole of the Year. She didn’t understand how someone who was clearly universally disliked could be so popular and fawned over. Since First Year, she left him alone and he left her alone; she was more than happy to pretend he never existed.

It wasn’t until one day when he came back to school with a brain injury that she started to pay closer attention to him.

Bree noticed that Trevor was a completely different person ever since his concussion. She heard rumors, spoken out loud and otherwise, that he had post-concussion syndrome. She wasn’t a doctor and from what she pulled from Google, she still couldn’t confidently say it was or wasn’t what caused his 180 personality change.

But given that his inner voice was totally different and she had seen thought patterns like his in others, it piqued her interest and she was certain that the Trevor she saw currently wasn’t the Trevor she had known since grade school.

She had been in his head before, it was a constant storm of anger and violence since First Year. There was an odd blank space, something he couldn’t handle thinking about so he suppressed it into a mental box and kept it hidden away. She had seen it in others before, pieces of themselves that they couldn’t face. She couldn’t tell what it was, part of her didn’t care. Whatever it was, it didn’t excuse his asshole behavior.

To her great shame, Bree was particularly disappointed with herself that she had such a huge and weird crush on him. There were several instances where she talked to herself, wondering what the hell she was doing.

She didn’t even know if she could consider it a crush, perhaps just attraction. Other than his looks, she more or less hated him with her whole being. While he was a major douche, there was just something about his presence and looks that always caught her attention. He was that tacky guilty pleasure show she couldn’t stop watching although she knew it was rotting her brain. 

It wasn’t fair that he was ripped and in general a great looking guy. His friend Kyle was the same way. Kyle wasn’t as big of an asshole, but he was still in Trevor’s circle of jerks that liked to pick on people or laughed while others did.

Bree was one of those unfortunate people, but it wasn’t a constant barrage. It was mostly when they deigned to notice her, they made sure to make fun of her name or family. It seemed as if they just had some sort of compulsion to ruin people’s day for the fun of it. Trevor wasn’t allowed to talk to her, that didn’t stop his friends from picking up the slack.

Bree didn’t think it was fair that the universe would bless such terrible people with good looks.

_Good people should be good looking, bad people bad looking. That’s how the universe ought to work._

But it seldom did.

Bree was more than happy to ignore the duo over the years, she refused to let her ill-conceived attraction waste her time on people who weren’t worthy of her attention.

But she noticed right away when Trevor’s inner voice had changed. It wasn’t just his voice, it was his entire demeanor as well. He was softer, gentler, and the tempest that was his barely concealed rage was gone.

Bree was certain there might be pod people in Seattle.

_Why did dad get me into sci-fi? Why couldn’t I just be dumb and never pick up a book? Having an imagination is terrifying._

From Rene and Kyle’s thoughts, they noticed it as well.

She tried to brush it off, like others brushed off her own weirdness. She had gleaned from Kyle and other football players that Trevor was into illegal cage fighting. The fight that caused his concussion could have killed him. She tried to convince herself that his brush with death woke him up to his cruel ways and he had a change of heart.

Perhaps that was the case with all the others. They had some sort of profound experience that literally changed them fundamentally.

She didn’t know the circumstances of others she had noticed with inner voice changes and odd thought patterns. Perhaps they too had some sort of concussion or brain injury that caused it. With the others, she just noticed one day they weren’t the same as before, she had no knowledge of what happened between the last time she saw them as they were and the next time as they were new.

What haunted her and prevented her from completely letting go were the similar thoughts themselves that they all had in common. It nagged at her that it couldn’t possibly be a random occurrence.  

_Protocols 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6._

_The Director_

_Traveler…_

She heard that over and over again. She couldn’t make out exactly what they were, but those were the common thoughts they all had and she could ascertain.

She knew she should mind her own business. She would hate it if anyone truly noticed her weird behavior and pressed on to find out the cause. She should respect boundaries and live her own life.

There was also the possibility they were all involved in some deep state scary shit she really wanted no part of.

She made an effort to ignore it, but even her music wasn’t enough to distract her from the odd voice in Trevor’s head.

 _Trevor Holden_  
Grace Day  
Charlotte Ball

The first two were confirmed people in her high school that had different inner voices, disrupted thought patters, and change in behavior. The last one was someone who had broken into the school, had attacked Ms. Day, and later had died by police fire, of all things. News reports later had stated she had killed her parents.

By all neighbor and family accounts, it was wildly out of character and no one saw it coming.

She was annoyed that these were all such strange events but no one was questioning them further. Someone, not her, should be investigating all the weird circumstances and **they** should be the ones to get mired in the paranoid conspiracy theories.

_There has got to be some Nancy Drew asshole around here, just itching to pry their nose into this crazy business._

Unfortunately there wasn’t, she had checked.

Bree just happened to be in the hallway where Charlotte had passed on her way to the guidance office, the psychic had only caught a second of the thirteen year old’s thoughts about “finishing the mission.” Even if she wanted to butt in—which she absolutely did not—Bree didn’t have enough time to warn anyone of an impending attack.

The longer the school year went on, the more government (her own or a hostile one) brainwashing Manchurian candidate pod people were starting to look rather possible.

Which was such a terrifying thought that she almost went into full denial mode and stopped her investigation before it even started.

Most adults had noticed a change in both Ms. Day and Trevor. They questioned him, but he brushed it off and in turn the adults thought he was going through some phase.

Bree wasn’t sure why the go to excuse was some “phase,” as if teens were that mercurial and would act out in a vacuum.

But she knew better, there was some fundamental part of Trevor and Ms. Day that was gone and replaced by something completely different.

For Ms. Day, people figured she was an adult and could handle her own business. The most popular theory among the faculty was that she was into drugs or had been jilted by a lover and no longer had the grace and patience as she did before.

Annoyingly, it wasn’t as if she could go around saying “I noticed you were different because my mind reading abilities is picking up strange signals from your brain…what’s that about?”

Trevor quit the football team and started to care about his grades. He was also noticeably absent from all school activities. He wasn’t exactly Mr. School Spirit, but he was a star football player and popular. He was the sun that most high school parties and social groups revolved around. And he just stopped caring about them and ditched his friends. The other students were all at a loss as to what happened but too afraid to confront him further on it.

Ms. Day went from a compassionate, tactful, and caring guidance counselor to saying whatever was on her mind and giving out harsh, albeit truthful, observations and advice.

Bree promised herself she would never get involved in the weirdness. She purposefully avoided people in police and the government, whatever weird secrets they had; she didn’t want to know.

But this was Trevor Holden, the guy she’s had a crush on since 7th grade and known for longer. Ms. Day had actually been helpful with her situation with Trevor, and most students went to her for help. She at least came across them every day, it wasn’t something she could ignore.

_If there are pod people, then I should at least confirm so I can protect myself. Right?_

She justified her light stalking. She created a dummy account and tried to befriend Trevor on Facebook. After a week of not accepting her friend request, which she very much resented, she had gotten the email and password from someone who was his friend, went to a local computer café, paid in cash, and stalked his social media. Ever since she noticed the change, he had not been updating anything. It’s as if he completely apathetic to his old life and dropped off the grid.

Bree still wanted to think that maybe he had some sort of epiphany; maybe he found God and wanted to become less of a self-centered jerk. All she wanted was for him to go into a church or to admit to as much in his mind, then she could stop. But his inner voice kept talking about protocols and the Director; same as Ms. Day. So he was part of whatever it was that everyone else with broken inner voices.

He also had intricate plans for engineering, things she couldn’t even follow the thoughts if she wanted to, they were so beyond her understanding.

_So Trevor was some sort of secret genius under all of that?_

Sometimes she wished her father wasn’t such a science fiction nerd because she was definitely starting to worry about aliens invading earth.

His thoughts were a bit more coherent than the others, however. Perhaps she had more access to him because of school, so she didn’t have that much to compare to, but he was particularly enamored with the school food.  

Not only where thoughts of how delicious everything was that came in clear, she could also **feel** how in awe of it he was. He had loved the food so much, he was projecting actual feelings.

_For cafeteria food?_

She also followed him to a park, he was amazed by children and trees. The more she followed him, more questions she had. The closest she could describe it was Trevor had been reborn and experiencing everything for the first time.

_But why? Is it some sort of cult?_

The “Director” certainly sounded ominous enough to be the head of some weird new age hippie techno cult for indigo children.

Put it on the list of “terrible horrifying things Bree didn’t want to really find out about.”

  1. Government Experiment
  2. Aliens
  3. Cult



Trevor would constantly go to this innocuous run down garage downtown. There was a hole-in-the-wall eatery across the street that she bunkered down in when she couldn’t figure out a plausible excuse to follow him inside. She enjoyed some of the greasiest fries and burgers Seattle had to offer while she spied on her classmate and tried to get some homework done. Regrettably, her gift didn’t extend to across the street. So she had no idea what he was doing for hours in that garage. She did notice an older guy in a suit, two regular looking women in their mid-twenties, and what looked to be a guy in his early-twenties always came and went. It didn’t look like any of them had anything to do with the other, five random strangers all meeting at a garage for hours, sometimes leaving together in a government SUV.

_One point for government experiment._

She had observed them for weeks. She couldn’t glean anything, and she was getting frustrated.

She had looked over public records of who owned the place, some guy named Ray Green who was an attorney. That told her nothing. He was on Facebook but it was all regular stuff, nothing that jumped out at her as him belonging to a cult. He had bought the property free and clear, with no obvious use for it and all cash. It didn’t look like it was a business, at least not a legitimate one with customers that would come in during daylight hours.

It seemed as if it was just a property deal and Mr. Green rented to someone else. She didn’t have the resources to dig deeper.

After another week of not getting anywhere, Bree was giving up. Whatever strange thing that was happening, it wasn’t something she could divine with her gifts and she had limited computer and sleuthing skills to fill in any holes. She certainly wasn’t going to spend what little allowance she got on paying someone to investigate.

She also stopped caring,

_If there are pod people, I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it. I can’t keep wasting my time on this._

Bree still wasn’t sure what was going on, but she couldn’t dedicate her life to it. She had a million tests to study for and infinite amount of chapters to read over the coming weeks.

_And it’s just Trevor Holden. He was an asshole, if he’s an alien or government replacement or in a cult then it’s a certainly better version of him._

So it was the last burger and fries she was ever going to order from Edie’s Take Out, she gathered her belongings and was preoccupied with the mountain of homework she had to do. She felt relieved, certain that her curiosity was the beginning of some wonky adventure she would be sucked into. Luckily, it seemed real life was not a sci-fi novel and her temporary insanity caused by curiosity led to nothing. She was almost cheerful when she checked to make sure she had everything, because of her ability to ignore all outside noise, physical and mental, she was particularly prone into running into people as she never could hear anyone approaching her. She had haphazardly swung her book bag and then ran into a solid mass.

She was used to such things, but when the mass had reached out to get his balance and equilibrium back  and grabbed her arm, the world had started to spin. Everything when white for a second and Bree’s senses dulled and were incomprehensible to her.

“Hey, are you alright?” Traveler 3326, known as Philip Pearson to everyone else, asked the girl he had run into.

“Yeah, I’m sorry…I think I stood up too fast,” she replied, although she didn’t look too convinced of her own explanation. She kept blinking as to get her focus and he wondered if she was on something, something he could relate to.

People were starting to stare; she noticed when her mind cleared.

_What the hell was that?_

She stood straighter when she realized who she bumped into, it was one of the five people she had been spying on the past month.

 His mind was surprisingly quiet. She had never run into anyone who she couldn’t read, all she heard was a low humming noise.

_Odd…_

She also couldn’t help but notice how particular good looking he was, strong jawline and long hair and a nose piercing, it was something she didn’t know she was attracted to but she learned something new everyday. Whatever weirdness he had going on, it was beyond her capabilities or schedule to figure out. She also wanted to not be some creepy weirdo that just stared at hot guys and couldn’t speak to them; although from the quizzical look on his face, that ship had sailed.

So she, as gracefully as she could muster, muttered she was sorry and made her escape.

_I’ll remain too boring for pod people to even want to replace me._

She tried not to think of all the time she wasted, and on Trevor Holden of all people, on the bus ride back home. She had tried her best and was willing to put it all behind her. It was her senior year, she couldn’t let this weirdness derail her plan to get out of the little suburb and try to live as normal of life as she could.

Fate had other plans.

That night, she started to dream of a world where the sun was blotted out by constant grey metallic clouds, the air was thick with misery and tasted like metal, and she could barely breathe.

She never really paid attention to her dreams. Most of the time, they were just odd nebulous recreations of what happened that day and she had no clear memory of them. These dreams were different, it was almost as if she were living another life rather than dreaming. Her recurring nightmares were something she was horrifyingly trapped in with no way out. She was haunted by thousands of people, not all of them had faces but all she could do was wake up crying.

She didn’t have any idea what was going on. She heard no messages, she read no thoughts; she was just overwhelmed with the feeling of dread and the need to do something.

“The reveille bell rang at precisely 0600, waking everyone up just seconds before they died…it’s not fair,” she whispered, having no idea what it meant but could see it clearly in her mind and it would not stop whirling through her mind. She started to draw hellish landscapes of ice and dried up lakes; of people who didn’t have faces but numbers tattooed on their backs. Of children sitting in front of screens with millions of lines of indecipherable codes and memorizing each one. She drew people feasting on white muck that smelled and tasted sour but it was all to be had.

She woke up one day a different person, one who would not let such things come to pass.

* * *

 

Phil Pearson was used to sitting at his computer station for hours, even days on end. His job as Historian was to keep the team financially afloat, track possible candidates, and use his knowledge of the future to help with missions. Most of his knowledge was locked away in his genetically engineered mind, ready to be pulled forward when he needed it.

For a moment, he worried that his position in the team was redundant after they had changed the timeline **just** enough for most of his knowledge to be obsolete. While he could hack into computer systems, the Director’s missions didn’t always need someone at the computer helm. He wasn’t trained in the medical field nor in martial arts beyond self defense. If he hadn’t gotten the update, he was pretty sure he’d be more or less dead weight at worst or a glorified Sherpa at best.

So his life still revolved around the computer screens, monitoring their investments or scanning the deep web. It was rare that he got a mission to do research for someone in the 21st century. Normally the Director had access to everything from the historical records and social media.

It seemed the new target didn’t have much of either.

It was rare but not completely unheard of, a person in the 21st century not having much of a digital footprint. There were plenty of people who lived off the grid and therefore, the Director would not have anything to go by in terms of making them a candidate or knowing what their place was in the Grand Plan. It was why most of their teams consisted of those who lived in major metropolitan areas. People in so called “fly over” states just didn’t have enough records or T.E.L.L. coordinates for them to consistently be able to over write them.

It was also possible that the person in question may have deleted their profile or whatever digital trail they may have had and since most companies had limited data storage, deleted anything that wasn’t active in so many years; so it wouldn’t be available to the Director in the future.

Phil was curious as to what the Director wanted with a seventeen year old girl that went to Trevor’s school.

“And one I ran into…literally…a few months back…” his curiosity piqued as he recalled the girl he had bumped into, wondering if she had been Faction and the team none the wiser.

“Bree-lye…what in the world?” he gave up trying to figure out how to pronounce her name as there wasn’t anything available to prove him right. A quick search and it was apparently that her name was completely made up and unique as it didn’t hit for anyone else’s name.

And it wouldn’t any time after if his memory was correct.

Which of course it was.

They had gone over such a phenomenon in their training on how to blend into the 21st.

“Sorry Ms. Hatch, but you are the unfortunate casualty of the ‘I want it to be cute and unique’ fad that unfortunately goes on for another twenty years,” he told his computer as he tried to see what he could find.

Other than a few college prep courses and art classes, she didn’t have much of a record outside of school and basic government forms. Her extended family had a bit of a colorful history, but nothing that would or should worry the Director.

With a few clicks on the keyboard, he was now in her house’s IP addresses and quickly figured out which computer was hers. On another screen, he had hacked into the Fairview High School database and looked up those records.

For the school, again there wasn’t much. She got good grades but wasn’t in the top 3% and for the first two and a half years, she wasn’t in any club. A few months back, he noticed a drastic uptick in her participation of school clubs.

Earth Justice  
Flexitarian Society  
Artists for Change

She even made the school newsletter,

“Ms. Can’t-Pronounce-Her-Name petitions the school board and raises funds for an inner city vegetable garden and greenhouse to feed Seattle’s Homeless.”

No one was there, but he was certain Poppy was listening with rapt attention in her happy little terrarium.

“OK, interesting in the small scheme of things and basically the type of people we want in the world, but what does the Director want with you?”

He wondered if there was some other update he needed since destroying the Quantum Frame. Maybe she was someone important to the current trend for the future. His currently knowledge of history didn’t have her as anyone significant. She wouldn’t die until much later, when she was too old to be much of a candidate and no idea if they would even still be doing missions that far into the future. She also wasn’t part of these groups in the future he had stored in his head, so something definitely had changed. He hoped he wasn’t due for another update, something that was both physically and mentally exhausting.

It wasn’t until he searched her personal computer that it started to get **really** interesting.

Google searches for:

0158, 47.6324402,-122.3701538, 47°37'56.8"N+122°21'41.0"W

1700, 47.62947, -122.35941, 47°37'46.1"N 122°21'33.9"W

0506, 47.66153, -122.31654, 47°39'41.5"N 122°18'59.5"W

0942, 47.60732, -122.3381, 47°36'26.4"N 122°20'17.2"W

“Alright, these are definitely T.E.L.L. sites…why would she put them into Google? Why wouldn’t she delete her trail?”

He asked the obvious question of why wouldn’t a Traveler, probably Faction if the Director was pursuing her, delete the evidence.

He also found out that she had put the coordinates into her Waze app to get to those places. She had a blatant and easily found trail of a Faction Traveler.

Still, even the Faction had back channels and resources to do such research and reconnaissance without leaving proof. If they had all been so sloppy, their team would have been able to find them and the Quantum Frame that much faster.

So his first instinct was to assume she was setting a trap, make it obvious that she was Faction and have them come to her.

He recalled the mistake he and Carly had done, finding a Faction member and confronting her directly. All they got for their efforts was running away while never confirming and the cops after them.

So they definitely were not going to do that again.

But what was stranger was that she did not go into the deep web. Her computer activity was restricted to Google, some site called Pinterest, Wikipedia, Tumblr, and YouTube. It was rather typical for a teen in the 21st century, but nothing stuck out otherwise as Faction. 

He checked local computer café’s but there was no Traveler type activity from there.

“She must be covering her tracks some way,” he wagered, not knowing how else she could have gotten T.E.L.L. sites and dreaded the idea that she may have superior computers skills than he did.  

Later that day he had called the Team to Ops along with the other team led by Hall.

Perhaps the Director had a sense of humor, it kept assigning missions to Hall and MacLaren; the two rather hated each other but where willing to put aside their differences for the sake of the mission.

Not gracefully or with any sense of decorum, as they were prone to sniping at each other but still they worked together.

“What are we here for?” MacLaren wanted to get to the point quickly and out of Hall’s presence.

“We have a Ms. Hatch, seventeen years old and a senior at Fairview High School,” Phil started as he had a computer monitor show their target and her stats.

“I’ve seen her around,” Trevor volunteered, getting a closer look at his classmate.

They all looked to Kyle as he also attended the high school.

“I’m still trying to get my bearing and navigating the 21st century young adult institution…I don’t recall seeing her.”

“How do you pronounce this name?” Trevor asked, looking at the screen and pointing to her name.

“No idea,” Phil responded, most were surprised as he held the breadth of all 21st history.

“What is it? Greek?” MacLaren wondered, seeing if he could get a country of origin to hazard a guess as to how it was pronounced.

“No, from what I can tell it’s a completely made up name…so I guess you’d call it ‘Suburban American.’”

“Seems mean to do that to a child.”

“Yes, she is not the first and she is certainly in good company across the U.S. coasts. My guess is Br(eye)-lye-ah.”

“It could be “Bree-lee,” Luca chipped in and wondering if some of the letters were silent.

“Who gives a shit?” Hall lost his patience, not knowing why it was important and wanted to leave as soon as he was able. He still resented that not only was he put in prison with the Director’s blessing, but his team would have to work with a much less experienced one with Maclaren at the lead. “Why are we here?”

“Is she a target for elimination or saving?” Carly wondered as she cleaned her pistol while sitting at the work table, wondering if she would need it soon and ignoring Hall’s grumbling.

“Neither, this is a reconnaissance mission,”

“Reconnaissance?” Marcy wondered, it would be first since the Director was more or less all knowing.

“Yes, it seems that Ms. Hatch is a suspect member of the Faction. Her web activity shows proof of T.E.L.L. sites and security camera footage as her being present at several of them. A few months ago, I had run into her at Edie’s across the street.”

“She left proof of T.E.L.L. sites on her computer and she’s been casing us?”

“Not just her computer, but she used Google to find them and then Waze to get there. I would presume so, otherwise it’s a hell of a coincidence that she was at a restaurant in the city and no business being here otherwise.”

“Google and Waze? That’s very…21st century. Why would a Faction member leave such an obvious trail?”

“No idea, I can only assume she wants us to find her.”

“It’s so…inelegant.”

“It is rather obvious she’s setting a trap…but a little **too** obvious. Even the Faction that came through the Quantum Frame had enough 21st know-how to erase traffic footage evidence. I also don’t know she would bother with T.E.L.L. sites at all. Faction had no issue with taking whatever candidate was most opportune, regardless if they were about to die or not. It also doesn’t make sense to go to T.E.L.L. sites, despite the Frame being dismantled the Director is in control. So there’s no way for any Faction to be able to jump back to the 21st and they haven’t been able to for a long while. So I can only guess she’s not as up to date with the Faction or she has plans for any new Traveler.

“Has she interfered in any jump?”

“No, at least not that I could tell. From the footage, she’s just been in the approximate area and then left; regardless if there had been a jump or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that from the Deep Web records, there had been a few successful jumps that she had been to and some that haven’t. For the successful ones, she did nothing. She wasn’t even in the exact T.E.L.L. site, she was just in the approximate area…areas where normal pedestrians would have been. It doesn’t even seem to be apparent that she even noticed anyone almost die.”

It was odd, what was the point of going to T.E.L.L. sites and just hang around?

“How long has she been here? She wasn’t with the group that had protected the Frame,” MacLaren was in F.B.I. agent mode, trying to get to the bottom of things.

“It’s hard to tell. Her records are bare as is, **but** given her sudden interest and participation in environmentally focused clubs and charities and when I ran into her…I would put her arrival sometime in November.”

“So she was before the Quantum Frame, why are we just now suspecting her?”

“Her presence at T.E.L.L. sites wasn’t detected until now. It was during the time the Director was shut down and we were fighting other Faction members that were actively trying to kill us.”

“If she were here that early, why overwrite Charlotte and send a thirteen year old, someone too young to be in the high school, to kill Grace? It would have made more sense, and the host would probably be stronger, if they sent Hatch,” Carly reasoned out, her tactician mind thinking something wasn’t adding up.

“That is what the Director wants to find out. We are not to directly engage in the likely case this is a trap. **Any** Traveler with any kind of computer training would have covered those tracks. She has, however, managed to cover her tracks in finding the T.E.L.L. sites form the deep web. It suspects that she is some sort of deep cover Faction member with a mission outside of overtaking the Director.”

Phil and Carly met eyes and recalled their failed attempt at forcing a Faction member to confess that they were Faction and what their plan was. The Historian also sadly remembered the Faction mission he was unwittingly apart of, the flu that had almost wiped out thirty percent of the 21st population.

“So that’s where Trevor and Kyle come in. You two are to observe and report her behavior.”

“We don’t have any classes with her and I doubt Protocol 5 would allow for us to befriend her. The 21st has strict social structures that rarely overlap with other groups,” Trevor explained, hoping to get some direction on how to handle the mission.

Kyle nodded as that was his observation the few weeks he has been in school, willing to let Trevor take the lead as the senior member.

“Protocol 5 is…not suspended but let’s say can be loosely interpreted in this instance. With Trevor’s newfound ‘inner peace,’ perhaps he wants to expand his social circle. Kyle as the beta male of the group will obviously do what Trevor does. Even before he was overwritten, he had quit the football team and looked for guidance from Trevor.”

It was a stretch but they could make it work. It wasn’t as if anyone who did question their strange behavior would ever make the leap to “they were taken over by a consciousness from the future.”

“OK, we’ll start Monday.”

“Right. And everyone, Protocol 3 is in effect; do not take a life. While Faction, the Director would prefer to keep the host viable for overwrite.”

They all nodded their understanding and left, Phil left to monitor the girl and everything else with only Poppy for company.  

* * *

 

Even though they had hundreds of hours of training in 21st century culture and behavior, neither Trevor nor Kyle were prepared for what high school was actually like. It seemed like there was a test every other day, there was assigned cafeteria seating according to what social group they were part of, and because they were under age they were limited in where they could go and what they could do.

Trevor fortunately had a reputation of being truant regularly, so most just assumed he was going back to his normal personality. Most teachers had given up on him, Grace Day (the real Grace Day) had been one of the very last to have any hope for him. Even with his surge in grades, he had missed so many classes because of missions that he was almost kicked out.

He was more than lucky, and probably a few well-placed Travelers he wasn’t aware of, that let him make up his work or do extra credit assignments.

Kyle had been better off academically and with attendance, but he was quickly on his way to getting into trouble.

Perhaps they ought to suggest to the Director that they should avoid over writing anyone under eighteen. Trying to maintain Protocol 5 and accomplish missions were not compatible for those who had to answer to parents.

Trevor knew he was expected to go to college. He wasn’t sure if he would even be able to graduate, and he couldn’t imagine suffering through another year of high school if he failed to pass.

But that was an issue for the future, he had to figure out how to talk to a girl he had no classes with and no social overlap. Her locker wasn’t anywhere near his. He was in no clubs and he had not been particularly social outside of football and completely withdrawn from anything outside of mandatory attendance after he had taken over his host’s life. Part of it was leaving the football team, another was all the time he had to spend on helping the mission.

Sometimes he wished he got another body, not one from his team: MacLaren had a wife, he didn’t think he could handle stringing along a partner and pretend to love them. Marcy’s host had brain damage and almost died because of it. Carly had a child, he definitely could not deal with raising another son. Phil would be ideal, as he was old enough to live on his own and live a solitary life with no parents interested enough in his whereabouts. But Trevor did not envy having to deal with addiction.

Neither he nor Kyle were the tacticians of the team. They had a hard time figuring how they would easily and naturally approach her.

Luck was on their side, however, as one of her clubs was having a bake sale.

In the concourse of their school, there were three tables lined up and covered with all sorts of confections. The school allowed all clubs to have a bake sale as long as they clearly labeled what each item was and their ingredients; some items were banned altogether, such as peanuts, for those with fatal allergies.

Normally there were homemade signs with varying degrees of sloppy handwriting in neon markers.

Trevor was rather impressed with the calligraphy of the signs for Earth Justice. Even the little notes with ingredients and names of the baked goods were done in careful penmanship. There was added artwork of landscapes and flowers, all depictions of endangered species and what the proceeds from the bake sale were going to help. He started at the end of the table, the one he happened to be closest to while their target was at the other end, collecting money.

He was surprised to see so many things that looked appetizing, marveling at how plentiful the food was in the 21st where they could bake for charity rather than just for survival.

He wished he had more money as he wanted to try one of everything. He did have enough to pick up one treat for himself and each of his team, happy there were so many vegan options for MacLaren. Feeling confident that he had a respectable amount of goods to purchase and maybe make some small talk, he walked towards their target. Kyle had followed suit and grabbed a few treats of his own.

He ignored the weird looks he was getting from some of the other members of the club, he was used to being slightly odd for “Trevor.”

Bree had processed and thanked the student ahead of them for helping their club, her genial smile had immediately fallen when she noticed him.

Dread had settled into his stomach, thinking they were already off to a bad start if that was her reaction to seeing his host.

_She must have been an unfortunate target of his cruelty._

Which made him angry at the boy whose life he had taken over. But he couldn’t think of it, he had a mission to accomplish.

“Hey Br(eye)-lye-eh,” he greeted in what he thought was his most genial tone and smiled, hoping that maybe he could convince her he was a new man (figuratively if not literally).

He wasn’t sure how, but he knew he had royally screwed up when she remained silent and her gaze fell as if she was unable to even stand the sight of him. After an awkward pause, Trevor not having the slightest clue how to even attempt to salvage the situation, she had taken a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked directly into his eyes.

“Fuck you Holden,” she grounded out, unwilling to cry in front of him but finding it hard as every memory she had of his malice bubbled to the surface. “Let’s not talk for another three years, alright?”

“I…” he started but had nowhere to go, but he desperately wanted to say he was sorry and do anything so she wouldn’t look at him the way she was.

_What the hell did Trevor do to you?_

Her eyes narrowed, unsure of who exactly she was looking at but wasn’t about to give him a chance to say anything, not that he had even the slightest idea what to say, and had snatched her book bag from under the table and stormed off.

A couple other students who had been manning the table with her had given him evil glares, clearly also of the opinion that Trevor was the lowest scum of the universe and had trespassed where he was not welcomed.

“Sorry…” he slowly stuttered out, dropping a twenty on the table. “Keep the change.”

Kyle quickly followed suit as the other teenagers weren’t too keen on him either as everyone knew they were best friends. They only made it a few steps of their escape when they were confronted with the disappointed eyes of Kylee Dawson, the shy girl whose phone Trevor had replaced at the start of school when Renee, the host’s girlfriend, had shoved her aside and broken it.

“That was really mean Trevor,” she said quietly, coming to the realization that maybe he hadn’t changed and was still the same horrible bully he had always been.

Trevor knew he hadn’t technically done anything, but he couldn’t help the guilt that ate at him seeing how people reacted around him; he knew that his host must have done something particularly heinous as it was the first time people were mad on someone’s behalf, and even unafraid to show their displeasure.

Whatever the late Trevor Holden had done, it was enough that others didn’t give him a pass either because he was popular or they were too afraid of his ire directed at them.

“Hey, Kylee, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on, could you walk with us?”

She was surprised at his sincere apology, even more so that he wanted to keep talking to her. The old Trevor would have probably said something mean and obscene and simply walked off; probably would have thrown in a shove as well. Not knowing what else to do, she agreed and they started to walk towards the library as he knew it would be deserted at that time.

“Look, I’m sorry to bombard you with this but could you tell me what exactly happened?” Trevor asked as they sat down at an empty table and made sure no one was around to overhear them.

With a cock of her head and furrowing of her brow, clearly she didn’t understand what he meant.

“It’s just that with my concussion…I lost a lot of memories, including…whatever incident that caused that reaction from…Br(eye)…?” he trailed off, hoping Kylee would fill in the rest.

“It’s just Bree, no one knows how to pronounce it and you have been making fun of her name since we were ten.”

_Jesus, Trevor was a little shit since forever._

“OK, Bree. I’ll be sure to remember that, but that can’t be it,” while annoying and insensitive, he couldn’t imagine simply making fun of her name would cause such a reaction.

Kylee looked away and hunched over, recalling the events of their first year and not exactly biting at the bit to rehash that story.

“Do you really not remember?” she hoped that maybe the memories would suddenly come back and she wouldn’t have to tell him.

“I’m sorry to make you say it…but it’s important I know…I can’t apologize if I don’t know what happened.”

His gentle tone and wide remorseful eyes made her heart nearly burst out of her chest, in that moment she’d do anything to help him.

“Please,” he implored, softly putting his hand on hers. She looked to Kyle, hoping maybe he’d fill in his friend but he looked just as lost.

_Jerk probably doesn’t even remember, of course the second prince of the school wouldn’t recall being mean to us lowly commoners. The new Trevor must be rubbing off on him if he’s going along with trying to be a better person. Wow, Trevor is so cute; I can’t resist those eyes._

“It started out with making fun of her name. Bree started to kind of do her own thing, not really making friends with anyone and eventually you went on to pick on other kids. But then in 8th grade, her cousin got committed to Briarcliff…the mental asylum,” she filled in the blanks when she saw he didn’t know what she was talking about. “and then you and the others started to really harass her. You started to call her schizoid—saying it was better than her real name—defaced her locker, filled her book bag with garbage, locked her in a closet and told her she ought to get used to it.”

Both Trevor and Kyle winced, they couldn’t imagine anyone, much less someone so young, being so cruel.

_No wonder the world got so fucked. Evil kids running rampant._

Trevor started to wonder if maybe they ought to just have everyone from the future jump into the past. Maybe the world would have a better shot if they had the numbers; maybe the Faction was partly right, some people in the past didn’t deserve the planet or life they had.

“Then came First Year,” Kylee huffed out with an exasperated sigh. It was the part of the story she really didn’t want to go over, but Trevor pleaded with his eyes for her to go on. “You basically found any excuse you could to make fun of her or give her crap about. How she had no friends, how she wasn’t on social media because she was too weird or ugly, she has ADHD so when she spaced out you’d purposefully startle her so she’d drop her things and you’d kick them away, you kept stealing her art pads, you destroyed her art pads, and then…”

Kylee was lost in her thoughts, growing more somber before she finally told him,

“When her cousin committed suicide, you brought white sheets to school and tied them into a noose…you told her she ought to do everyone a favor and follow his example.”

Trevor was pretty certain that if his host hadn’t been available and he had gotten another body, he would have killed Trevor Holden himself. Despite knowing the origin of his host’s rage, he couldn’t help but think it made no difference and that the old Trevor was truly a horrible person.

“She stayed home for like a week. I don’t know what happened after that, but you finally let off and hadn’t bothered her since.”

“Thank you Kylee…I have a lot to think about…and a lot to make up for.”

With a sad smile, he and Kyle left; both unsure how to proceed but the Director couldn’t have picked a worse person to tail.

Kylee was glad it was over, but hopeful that perhaps Trevor had really turned over a new leaf and wanted to make amends.

* * *

 

“Why would the Director send you two bozos when I’m the guidance counselor? I have access to all these cretins’ files,” Traveler 0027, who preferred to be called Grace, railed at the injustice of once again being left out of a mission.

Trevor and Kyle had gone straight to the guidance counselor’s office, finding Grace bemoaning how stupid and vapid the students were and that she hated Protocol 5 as she wrote reports.

Trevor rolled his eyes, tired of the same complaint. He was certain the Director had its reasons for not including Grace, probably because she was as tactful as a punch to the face. He also personally thought that she was not properly trained to be part of any mission, although she seemed to think she could just fill in whatever spot due to her own genius.

In this case, however, he did think she would be useful.

She immediately started to go through her drawers, trying to find a file on Bree Hatch, muttering how both of them were idiots for not coming to her first and asking again, why not send a messenger to her to go to Ops for the mission. She finally found what she was looking for and started to read the girl in question’s file.

“I don’t know, go on Skype and ask it.” Trevor suggested sarcastically. “What does her file say?”

“It says you’re a real shithead.”

_There’s the tact I was thinking about._

Again he rolled his eyes and cocked his head, silently asking “Really?”

“That’s what it says, it’s in an official complaint from her and her parents. It says ‘Trevor Holden is a shithead.’”

Both Kyle and Trever hovered over Grace, reading where her finger pointed and there it was, clear as day “Trevor Holden is a shit head.”

“So Mr. and Mrs. Hatch file a formal complaint against you, stating that you threatened their daughter. They list the **many** instances of bullying, many caught on video. The incident with the noose was also caught on video, they threatened legal action for possible attempted negligent homicide as telling someone to commit suicide is potentially criminal in Washington. Jesus, you were a real shithead.”

“I don’t disagree. How did Trevor not get expelled? Doesn’t Fairview have a zero tolerance policy?”

“It does on the books, but it seems it’s not really acted upon; especially not for their star JV quarterback.”

Trevor scoffed and shook his head at the double standard and how the school could let such despicable behavior go on just to win a trophy.

“So it seems Coach Perry, stellar guy,” Grace scoffs sarcastically but not surprised he would be part of such a terrible cover up, “stepped in. Spoke on Trevor’s ‘behalf.’ It seems the school was willing to lend its support to Trevor, on the grounds that it couldn’t let itself be held liable…blah blah blah. So it seems the former Grace Day also felt that Trevor would do better with more counseling rather than any jail time. That part of shot down, but the compromise was that Trevor had to sign a form stating that he’d keep away from Bree and no longer harass her. All videos were to be destroyed. Bree could then test out of gym, was guaranteed any class she wanted, and the school would pay for summer art lessons in Vancouver. So far, it seems that Trevor and the school have honored that deal.”

“With a threat of jail time, I’m not surprised. But this probably also means that she can’t be Faction, right?”

“How do you figure?” Kyle asked, still trying to catch up.

“Well, Bree was genuinely upset to see me. This happened three years ago. Kylee said I had been tormenting her since grade school. A Faction member wouldn’t have responded to me like that. They probably wouldn’t even know who I was.”

“Maybe not, if they’ve been here a while and undercover since about November, that’s months of recon she could have done on her past life. With no missions, or just one mission while others tried to bring down the Director, maybe she’s just more thorough about Protocol 5. All these instances are also on video, maybe she’s seen them and was prepared. Even if none had survived to our time, there are probably still some around **right** now. I mean, she **has** to be from the future, how else would she have had T.E.L.L. sites?”

Kyle made a good point, but something in Trevor’s old soul told him differently. The hurt, the anger, all of that was real and written all over Bree’s face.

“Well either way, she hates your guts so no way are either of you getting close to her. And she sees her own therapist, so this is all I have on her. I’ve done my part for the mission, next time call me. This backwards time does have cell phones. I’m going to go steal the leftover donuts and bagels from the teacher’s lounge.”

And with that, Grace left them to their own devices.

_I guess she’s stopped caring about helping with the mission._

“So what do we do now?” Kyle wondered, their plan had fizzled before it even really started.

“I have an idea, but Phil’s not going to like it.”

* * *

 

Phil sometimes hated that he didn’t have a “job” like the rest. The others could use the excuse of “Protocol 5” and they were “not it” for certain missions. So he was stuck with recon since he didn’t have to make an excuse to a boss about missing work.

Luckily Carly had a fairly flexible job where she could disappear for an hour or two and no one would be the wiser, so at least he wasn’t alone.

Even though he was there for a mission, there was just something skeezy and wrong about a twenty-something man in a teenage girl’s room, going through her stuff. At least with Carly there, it felt more like a mission and not like he was some creeper.

“Well, she has a piece of Post-It note over her computer camera, that’s suitably paranoid enough for a Faction member,” Phil thought out loud as he hacked into her sticker covered laptop.

“She also has a fondness for young adult dystopian novels, perhaps a healthy sense of ironic humor?” Carly observed as she read the synopsis of several books that were piled around her bed and in her book shelf. “She also likes classic science fiction,” she mostly muttered to herself as she put back Caves of Steel by Isaac Asimov back onto the shelf.

She saw a pile of artwork for Bree’s various clubs, several books on going vegan and environmentalism, there were posters of good looking men from bands she had never heard of on the wall, and art supplies. Nothing to her shouted “Faction” to her yet. She started to check under the bed, in the drawers, and the closet.

“Well, nothing on her computer. All she has on here are school assignments, power point presentations for her clubs and community garden, and Descendants fanart and fanfiction.”

“Fanart? Fanfiction?”

“Yeah, apparently she is quite fond of Cameron Boyce.”

Carly hadn’t caught up on 21st century pop culture and with a child, even if she had cared about trying to blend in better she wouldn’t have had the time.

“He’s a rather famous Disney actor of this time, his movies are big hits. Many 21st teens and young adults like to create art or writing based off current popular media. If she’s Faction then she is the most consummate study of the 21st century I have ever seen.”

She wasn’t sure what all of that meant, but she would take his word for it.

“Gotcha,” Carly said in triumph and brandished a black leather bound book with “Journal” etched on the front after finding a locked case in the closet, easily able to pick it. She started to flip through it, seeing if anything was amiss. She would have assumed a Faction member wouldn’t have been foolish enough to write down anything significant, and probably would have stopped once they jumped into the body.

But she was surprised to see how prolific a writer Bree was and it was up to date.

“This Faction is really committed to Protocol 5. They keep extensive records of their thoughts, looks pretty spot on as the host’s personality. Even the handwriting hasn’t changed.”

“What do they write about?”

“Basically everything, seems she was rather observant. Wrote down who is sleeping with who in the school, dinner plans, one girl’s struggle with an eating disorder…it just goes on and on with other people’s secrets. Looks like there are dozens of these.”

Phil got up from the desk to check it out, there in the chest were several neatly put away journals, all the same style and brand. He picked up a random one to see what it held and read that it was like the one Carly had, detailed entries on other people’s lives. He looked through several more,

“Wow, these go back to when she was nine.”

“So what does this mean?”

“It means I wouldn’t want her around us if she writes everyone’s secrets and lives down. How could she possible know some of this?”

“Trevor said Grace said she was a loner, maybe no one notices when she’s around and are more liberal with their secrets,” Carly shrugged, it could also be that people in the 21st were so self-absorbed that they had given this kind of information out without thought. “Although I’m surprised that the Faction would have kept up this hobby, seems like a waste to go this in depth to a host’s past and keep up their life. What could she be doing for them?”

“You really think she’s Faction? We’ve made this mistake before.”

“No, we went about confronting her the wrong way, not that she wasn’t Faction. And yes, I do think she’s Faction. There’s no other way to explain how she knew T.E.L.L. sites. She just must be very good about covering her other tracks.”

While Phil slightly bristled at the insinuation Bree was so good to even fool him with his computer expertise, he also couldn’t explain the T.E.L.L. sites any other way. And Carly had been right about the girl at the rave, so he started to look elsewhere in the room; wondering where there could be other secret items hiding away.

With a keen eye, he roved every inch of the room and tried to see something that looked out of place. There was no secret knob or book to pull to open a hidden door or hatch, he felt like they weren’t going to find anything else.

There was a professional leather artist’s portfolio in the corner, out of sheer curiosity he had opened it to see what was inside. After thumbing through several pages,

“Holy shit,” he breathed out when he realized what he was looking at.

“What is it?” Carly hurried over, looked at the pictures Phil had in his hand. “Well, there’s our proof she’s from the future.”

* * *

 

Later that night both teams were back at Ops.

“We found these sketches and artwork in Bree’s house, she’s definitely from the future. Faction or possibly a disillusioned Traveler who is opting to stay hidden and live out Protocol 5 indefinitely,” Phil started, putting pictures of the sketches they took with their phones at her house.

“So a faction of the Faction?”

“That’s the outside of a shelter, that’s the very crowded inside of a shelter, that’s the yeast vat, that’s a very detailed drawing of the polluted sky, and…someone I don’t know,” Maclaren rattled off what each picture was, ignoring Hall’s droll observation.

“That is H07, the Historian that raised and taught my cohort.” Phil answered, revealing more about Bree.

“A rogue Historian, that’s a bit surprising.”

“It’s surprising because it should be impossible.”

It was, as Historians were raised from birth and genetically conditioned in order to retain all the knowledge they needed to survive in the past. They knew more than anyone the need for the Grand Plan, they were more loyal than anyone to changing the future according to the Director’s design. Even the Faction member Jenny said they couldn’t get their hands on a Historian as they were jealously guarded and not introduced to the team until upon arrival.  

“So if she’s a Historian, that means she came with a team and there should be a record of her.”

“If there was, don’t you think the Director would have figured her out by now? It’s not like they have an unlimited supply of Historians they would replace her with. You know how it goes, if your Historian dies then you don’t get another,” Grace said condescendingly to Maclaren.

“A Historian would not have joined Faction, it wouldn’t be possible. No one but the Director and a select few even know where Historians are raised. No one meets them until they join the team. If the Faction had their hands on a Historian…we would have been much more screwed,” Phil interjected.

“So the question is, how do we have an unaccounted for Historian?” Marcy questioned, trying to bring them back to focus.

“Do you have something to add Grace?”

“What are you implying Maclaren?”

“Well, it seems this is the second unauthorized jump. It seems the programmers are not quite on top of the Traveler program. Maybe while the Director was down, someone had altered the records?”

“Oh do not insult my programing MacLaren. **I** was able to jump because of my vast genius, **no one else** is capable. No one else could have rewritten the future records to erase an entire Historian.”

“Well clearly there is because we have a **Historian** on the loose and no one seems to have any idea who she is.”

“She had to be working with the mole, 0029. As a programmer he could have easily snuck a Historian into the Quantum Frame.”

“How? Programmers don’t know where Historians are raised, how would Faction even begin to convince them to betray the Director? And if she was here, why use Phil for the virus? Jenny said so herself, they didn’t have access to a Historian.”

“Yes, let’s take the word of a dying genocidal liar.”

MacLaren did not appreciate her sarcastic tone and was more convinced than ever it was probably do to her own hubris that a Historian had escaped from the future and was their current problem, but before he could make a biting remark back, the lights started to flicker and the computers went haywire.

**Enough. We do not have enough facts or evidence to make a decision one way or another. You will capture the unknown Traveler in the host known as Bree Hatch and bring her in for questioning.**

The words appeared on the screen in bolded font, it was probably the closest the Director could come to yelling. All members felt a bit sheepish for arguing in front of an almost omniscient computer program and realized they had a mission to accomplish and sniping at each other was not helping.

 “Regardless of how they got here or their motivations, they are a Traveler that is deviating from the Grand Plan and that is high treason. Historian or not,” Maclaren’s final word on the matter. It was a shame to lose a Historian as they were so valuable to teams and there had been so much time, effort, and resources in grooming them for their position but the Grand Plan could not afford someone with such knowledge, even outdated knowledge, to swan around unchecked.

They spent the rest of the night checking out available safe houses and instructing other nearby teams to set up the equipment for questioning and probably overwrite. While the Director only really needed some sort of definitive digital proof to establish a T.E.L.L. site and it could be done with a smart phone or two, it was preferred that they had a stable connection to the internet and an advanced web camera to avoid misfires as much as possible. It was also preferred to have overwrites happen in as much seclusion as possible to avoid detection or suspicion.

The finer details were ironed out; Bree Hatch would be kidnapped after school and taken to a safe house in the city, she would be questioned to get as many facts as they could so they could determine how exactly a Historian was able to go missing without detection, and then she would be over written with another Traveler. Most of both teams had gone home to whatever life they were pretending to fill.

Trevor lingered behind, not ready to go back to the Holden’s house and keep up the pretense of trouble teen son turning over a new leaf. Some part of him wondered how his host’s parents had never seen his behavior as a cry for help, or at the very least properly punished him for it.

Would it have taken Trevor getting arrested or actually hurting someone for them to wise up that there was something wrong with him? How could they ignore his cruelty? All for what? For a few years of glory as a football player? How could that have been worth someone’s life?

_Screw Protocol 5, I’m an adult according to the law. I can just stay at Ops with Phil. Or get my own apartment, pretending to be Trevor Holden is too exhausting. Who’s to say how his life would have gone if he had lived, choosing my own direction can’t be all that far off from separating from his parents and not getting into university. At least if I were on my own I wouldn’t have to keep the pretense of explaining where I am all the time._

“‘Penny for your thoughts?’ as the 21st would say,” Phil asked, not used to Trevor being so morose. He found his friend tinkering at a table, fixing some gadget from the future.

“Life as Trevor Holden is…exhausting. I feel like every month I find out something horrible about him. Sometimes I feel sorry for him, other times I’m glad he’s gone. Am I a horrible person for thinking that?”

“Well, as someone who is also in an exhausting host, I would say humans are far more complicated in the 21st. Perhaps we are programed for our own self-destruction. Whether now or centuries in the future, we create these problems with no easy or even discernable solution. Something terrible happened to Trevor Holden, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. But he also dealt with it in terrible ways. In NA, there’s this concept: drugs or trauma explain the behavior, it doesn’t excuse them.”

“What would have happened to Bree if a Traveler didn’t hijack her body?”

Phil wondered if he should reveal that to Trevor, he wasn’t sure why he was asking him or what good it would do; holding onto guilt was not advisable to their line of work. But he found himself unable to deny his friend.

“Bree Hatch was supposed to live a very normal and mundane life. She was never a host candidate.”

When Phil didn’t elaborate, Trevor took that to mean he went as far as he was willing to go, even Historians had their own protocols about how to disseminate information. He thought it meant when the real Trevor Holden had died, she was probably free from his torment and got over what happened.

Now because of their interference, Bree Hatch’s life had been cut tragically short.

“I feel like there is something off about this,” Trevor admitted, going against the evidence and revealing what his instincts were telling him.

“What do you mean? Besides the obvious how did a sequestered Historian, one in my own cohort, managed to evade the Director and jump into a body that wasn’t meant to be a host?”

“I know she **has** to be a traveler. Maybe not Faction, but definitely a Traveler…I just can’t get over how she looked at me when I spoke to her. It seemed and felt so real, genuine hurt.”

Phil knew how he felt, he did not have the luxury to forgive and forget what Jenny had done. She had played the “fellow Traveler on your side” and had even gone far enough to sleep with him and gave him something different to be addicted to. He felt used and guilty for helping the Faction, even if it were inadvertently. He was living proof of how a Historian could be misused, and as sorry as he felt for the former Bree Hatch, there was nothing Trevor or any of them could do for her or to make up for what the late Trevor Holden had done.

“Travelers can be good actors when they want to be,” he knew he didn’t need to explain further. “And it’s a shame what Trevor had done to her, but none of that is your fault. And it’s not your responsibility, or any of ours, to make up for past wrongs our hosts had committed. Protocol 5 says we have to maintain our host’s lives, not rectify or improve upon them.”

Although Trevor was technically the oldest person to have ever lived, he was glad that others had wisdom to impart to him. What Phil said didn’t fix everything, but it certainly lifted some of the weight he had been carrying for the past few days.

It was sad what happened to Bree, even more so that Trevor would never be able to at least apologize on his host’s behalf. But they were working on a better future, one where they could live freely above ground and in a conserved earth; maybe they could also work on making humans kinder to one another.

  

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you:  
> LyannaWatson, The_Snack_That_Smiles_Back, Jessie23, NetflixAndSleep, MissAlessa, Bokaormur, Rebecca, HollowTooth, Midnight1221, and littlemissdragoness! You guys are awesome and I super appreciate your reviews. Also thank you for your patience while I updated.

Bree stormed off, too mad to fully articulate her rage and walked to the arts center. The janitorial staff was used to having her be there at odd hours, they trusted that she was not there to cause mischief and left her alone.

She was glad for it, for she didn’t know if she could be even the bare minimum of cordial the social contract said she had to be to people who had nothing to do with why she was angry. She didn’t want to lash out at anyone, much less those who didn’t deserve it. She was alone in the art studio; all the chairs were stacked on the tables and all supplies were put away. Still, the room gave her a sense of peace and calm. She took a few paper towels from the paint splattered sink, wiped away some of the tears that had managed to escape. She had thought she had gotten over her confrontation with Trevor, but coming face to face with him had brought that horrible day to the forefront.

She felt it was probably for the best that she never found anything on him when she followed him a few months ago; she probably would have had a break down, the whole thing was totally idiotic and wished she had never even attempted.

Bree could barely focus on what had happened at the bake sale. She wished she could have just accepted the money and told him to go on his way. She got even angrier when she felt embarrassed about reacting the way she did.

She took several deep breaths to calm herself. Once she could clearly remember what happened, she started to get worried for completely different reasons. She recalled his thoughts,

_He was too surprised at my reaction. He used his name in the third person. Holy shit, he’s actually a pod person._

Her more logical side tried to explain all his weird behavior, one that didn’t involve aliens.

_Did he really not know my name or was he just being a dick? Could it be part of his head trauma? Could it be memory loss? Damn it, why do all of these sound like they could true?_

She paced around the room, wondering what her next steps should be.

_What’s the best way to get out of this and not be the impetus to a sci-fi series? I can’t star in a series, I have a report due on Friday—I’ve only done two out of five pages—oh God, I’m going to die. Pod people are going to take over my life. I wanted to try at least one year at university. I took all those prep courses and I’ve maintained a 4.0, they can’t come in and take credit for all my hard work!_

At the thought of some alien getting all the adulation of graduating and getting into college, she kicked an innocent table leg in frustration.

“Ow, ow, ow…” she groaned as she hobbled away and felt dumb.

It wouldn’t the first time Bree lost to inanimate objects.

“OK, game plan,” she told the paint brushes, they were always much more sympathetic. “I am going to ignore this, as I should have in the beginning. I will continue to live my life, avoid Trevor and everyone else with odd voices at all costs. It’s not like they can convince me to go alone somewhere with him. They clearly picked the **wrong** guy to lure me into whatever nesting ground they have. If they wanted to lure me anywhere, they should have picked Cameron Boyce. Dumbasses. Eventually they’ll get bored and find an easier target. I’m sure they have better people they could replace. Or maybe there’s some other girl that could be the heroine. A plucky manic pixie girl…it’s not wrong to foist this adventure on someone else and put their life in danger.”

She definitely thought the filbert was judging her.

“The manic pixie girl **wants** to go on adventures and be the hero,” she explained further as the lifeless art supplies clearly didn’t understand how it all worked. “I’d be helping her out. **I** just want to go to college and have a normal life. I didn’t ask for this gift and I can’t return it. Ergo, I have no obligation to investigate and stop an alien invasion, cult, government conspiracy, or any mixture thereof. I will find the manic pixie girl, and just nudge her…somehow. It’s a work in progress, leave me alone pencil sharpener.”

When the art supplies wouldn’t contribute anything helpful, she sighed deeply and ran her hands over her face and through her hair.

“OK,” she conceded, guilt forcing her to retract her plan. “Yes to ignoring this, no to duping someone else into this craziness. **BUT** I’m still not going to be part of…whatever **this** is. It’s not too late, I didn’t set myself on an unavoidable course where I have to deal with aliens…or whatever. I can totally ignore this and live like nothing has happened.”

The easel seemed satisfied and that was good enough for her.

* * *

 

The MacLaren and Hall Traveler teams were seasoned agents, trained practically all their lives to fulfil missions of the Director. While MacLaren’s team was prone to improvising, something the Director discouraged as it left open too many variables, they were the utmost professionals that laid low, acted natural, and only struck when the timing was right.

Hall’s team tended to be straightforward but took liberties in interpreting what the Director ultimately wanted and were ruthless in their endeavors; at least until Hall and Luca landed in jail with the Director’s blessing. Hall was still cold-blooded when it came to missions, and he had more experience with the more unseemly aspects, such as kidnapping.

Kyle was excused for the mission as his host had detention, neither the seasoned Travelers minded as kidnapping was almost rote to them.

All of experience didn’t work out as well when the mission was forefront of their minds and they were trying to capture a mind reader.

Bree normally could block people out while she listened to music, focusing on one sound helped drown out others. Sometimes, however, people who were particularly loud thinkers invaded her little bubble and she couldn’t help but overhear them. Some became loud with stress or if what they were thinking about was the sole focus of their minds.

Plans to kidnap her not only were loud, but would make her turn off her music subtly and listen in. She kept walking, her heart racing and she hoped she didn’t look as panicked as she felt. She kept her pace and stayed on course, wondering if it would look more suspicious to suddenly veer off path or would that be her only chance at getting away.

_They really need to teach how to evade kidnappers, what the fuck do I need to the Pythagorean theorem for? Keep walking. Keep calm, they’re in a creepy old car that probably gets terrible mileage and has a terribly large carbon footprint._

Luckily there were still several people around her, all heading towards the same direction as her when leaving school. That gave her a few precious minutes before she got to her neighborhood and people would taper off.

_Why do they want to kidnap me? If I escape today, will they keep trying? Do I tell my parents? What do I say? I can’t say I heard their thoughts…maybe I can just say they were creepily following me…Is this pod people or everyday sex trafficking kidnappers…God, it’s so sad that it could be either. The world is garbage. Maybe I should let the pod people take me, everything is awful. What do I even have to look forward to? Insane student loan debt? I won’t be able to buy a house, maybe my parents will leave me theirs. Oh my God Bree, focus; you’re about to be kidnapped._

Whatever plan she needed to come up with, she’d have to do it later as the car following her was within “push her in before anyone could do anything” distance as one of them eloquently thought. She still couldn’t tell if they were pod people or regular humans, their thoughts coming in clear and she didn’t know them, she wasn’t able to tell if their voices matched their thoughts.

“Hey! Karen! It’s so great to see you!” Bree exclaimed to the first woman she came across and hugged her.

The woman was shocked and wasn’t sure what to do, her name certainly wasn’t Karen and she had never seen the girl before. Bree was glad she was so small and unthreatening, she was certain if she were any bigger then she would have been thrown off and yelled at.

“I’m sorry, but there are these guys following me in that tan car. I don’t know them and I’m scared,” she whispered while she held onto the woman. She relaxed and eyed the car in question, she agreed that the guys in the car were suspicious as they slowly passed them. The men were much too old to know the girl socially, and if they were related to her she wouldn’t have been scared.

“It’s been forever! We really should not let so much time go by, lets get some dinner,” the kind stranger played along, and Bree almost cried in relief. The two diverted to a local eatery and stayed there until Bree’s parents could pick her up.

* * *

 

“How the fuck do you fuck up a kidnapping this badly?” MacLaren railed at Hall and Luca.

Luca had the humility to at least seem sheepish, Hall just scoffed and rolled his eyes. Kyle was thankful he had detention, from the last time they had kidnapped someone and he had skipped school.

“Kidnapping is not that easy,” Hall tried to defend himself, ready to give the finer details of the art of snatching people.

“No shit it’s not easy, but I would have thought that you at least wouldn’t have been reported to the police.”

“How could she even go the police? Yes, we were following her but it’s not like we were creeping along. We were going the speed limit.”

“Well apparently you have a ‘creep’ factor because a random woman Bree happened to cross had corroborated her story **and** with Ms. Hatch’s exceptional drawing skills had turned in a sketch of your mug. Which then popped up in the database and guess what? You’re still on parole. So maybe if you weren’t a felon and she wasn’t a 5’0” girl with straight A’s and starts greenhouses and gardens for the homeless, they would have brushed it off.”

“Well then boys scout, **you** kidnap her. Maybe it’ll be easier with your suit and black SUV, tinted windows will make it hard for her to see your stupid face.”

“Enough, you idiots,” Grace reprimanded them,

_I can’t believe the Director trusts these morons. I could have kidnapped her, easily._

“Instead of you two snapping at each other like the bratty degenerates that plague the school, I have a plan to get this Faction…a good plan.”

“And what’s that sunshine?” Hall highly doubted, programmers might have intelligence when it came to computers in spades, anything else they were normally useless at. That’s why programmers were cloistered away from the regular populace as they had zero social skills.

“I call her in for counseling and give her a drugged drink. I’m a trusted member of the community, she’ll never see it coming and as an authority figure within this wretched institution they mockingly call education she won’t be able to refuse to see me. She’ll be knocked out, I’ll say she left and hide her in my office; when it gets dark, we’ll take her to the safe house.”

“Drugging young teen girls? That’s what we’ve come to?” Phil was not comfortable with this plan and wanted no part in it.

“The ends justify the means,” Grace replied succinctly.

“Machiavelli,” Phil automatically filled in the originator.

“I think we know what happens when we start to assume the Director would be OK with doing whatever it takes to accomplish the mission,” Grant darkly reminded the group of Hall’s past indiscretions.

That did still Grace’s hand for the moment. She knew that despite how close she was with the Director, there were limits and lines they could not cross even for the sake of the Grand Plan, unless the Director gave specific instruction to do so.

“Well I’m open to any other idea, I just want it stressed that knocking her out wouldn’t harm the host’s body.”

Trevor sighed deeply and tried not to roll his eyes, wishing Grace would calm down.

No one had any other suggestion, and there were no messengers or any other indication from the Director that Grace’s idea was out of line.

“No one? Fine, drugging it is. Marcy, get me knock out drugs.”

“What?” the team’s medic’s head swung towards Grace, startled that she was suddenly part of the insane plan.

“I’m a programmer, not a doctor. I thought of the plan, you take care of the details. I’m going to try out that place across the street. If a rouge Traveler thought it was worth eating at for a few weeks, it has to be good.”

Without much ceremony or even a goodbye, Grace left Ops and the others were speechless at her bluntness. But there weren’t any other viable plans, Grant certainly did not want to attempt to kidnap the girl in his government vehicle; especially not if she was such a good sketch artist. The last thing he needed was this Faction to report to the police that an FBI agent had attempted to kidnap her or somehow link him to Hall.

_Historians and their irritating perfect memory._

* * *

 

The next day, Grace’s plan had gone into effect. Marcy had managed to obtain some rohypnol, Traveler 0027 wasn’t all too concerned with the “how,” only the dosage so she wouldn’t accidently kill the host.

The last thing Grace wanted was a dead teenager in her office, she barely tolerated them when they were alive.

There was a soft knock on her door, Grace slightly jumped; nervous about her first mission that didn’t involve a computer. Subterfuge wasn’t her strong point, but she had to get this mission right or she would never be invited to another.

_If I don’t get invited to more missions my mind will turn to mush from boredom._

“Hi Bree! Come in,” the counselor said in her most welcoming voice.

Bree was slightly startled at her abnormally loud welcome as she walked into the office. She had seen Grace Day smile before, whatever had taken her place looked like they had only seen smiling on television and was trying to mimic the behavior as best they could.

_Definitely another point for aliens. Why did I come here? Escape, idiot. No, don’t act like anything is wrong. Act like things are totally fine and that you don’t suspect a thing. She has a “mission.” This is different than the creepy guy in the old car, that guy was a stranger. This is pod Grace Day, she could make my life very hard. One report that I’m acting “out of sorts” and boom, I’m in therapy sessions to make sure I don’t have the family “illness” until I graduate._

While she could not be 100% sure the guys in the car were pod people, the fact there was another attempt to get her was telling. She barely listened when the pod Formerly Known as Grace Day babbled on about the bake sale incident right as she sat down. Bree could only guess that’s the best she could come up with in order to force her to come there.

“I just want you to know, that the agreement is still in place. Trevor Holden is to stay away from you. I know it’s difficult, dealing with graduating and getting into college…and then Trevor. I just want you to know that I’m on your side…”

_That’s it, nod and smile , let her think you’re on her side…and you care about her host’s boring mundane life. Offer her the bottled water, the one to the left. Don’t mix them up, I…don’t want to pass…out. Then the Director would never trust me again and I’m stuck with these brain-dead Neanderthals living out this banal existence._

Bree felt as if she was going to vomit, hearing the plans to drug her made her feel dizzy. The Not Grace Day’s thoughts were particularly clear and concise, flickering out rarely. She did her best to keep nodding and smiling, hoping the alien wouldn’t pick up on her anxiety.

_What in the hell do these people want with me? They can’t know…_

“I’m sorry what?” Bree asked when Grace had looked at her quizzically, the same look everyone got when it was clear she had zoned out.

“I was wondering if you wanted some water…you look thirsty.”

That was oddly inelegant, but also something she would expect from someone who had newly been human and was still trying to adjust to their new planet and interacting with humans.

_Must be the B Team pod person. Man, they’re really not good at this. How have they remained hidden for so long? Maybe there doesn’t need to be a hero, these aliens might only get the dumb ones._

“No thank you…I’m on a tea cleanse. I only drink this special herbal tea, I got it off the internet. It’s vegan, organic, and gluten free, it’s supposed to help me lose ten pounds in a couple hours. It’s all natural, imported from…” she prattled on about the first idea that came to her dead, trying to recall every diet tea or whatever celebrities hawked on Instagram.

Grace blinked several times, totally caught off guard; she was certain it would be easy enough to get her to drink water, but she was instead treated to an infomercial.

_Idiot 21 st century diet fads, damn this Faction is good._

“I really have to go, thanks for the talk. I’m sure Trevor just simply forgot, too many hits to the head. Silly football and all of that, I’m fine. Thanks for checking in, I have to go to the bathroom, but only the one at my house. I’m bathroom shy and this tea is not going to wait, if you know what I mean. Heh heh heh…bye.”

Bree had said it all so quickly and hadn’t waited for Grace to come up with an excuse to stay. She could only stare helplessly as the teen exited her office.

_Shit._

Later that night, back at Ops.

“Well, so much for drugging her,” Hall rubbed Grace’s failure in her face.

“Shut up, at least I’m not on some criminal database,” she replied petulantly, her face scowling in disappointment.

“Well she started a buddy walking club, so she’s always with someone from school to home. It’s a big hit, apparently she’s not the only one who is uncomfortable walking by themselves. World’s not a great place,” Trevor informed them.

“She didn’t take the water?” MacLaren wanted the entire story.

“No, said she was on some sort of ‘tea cleanse.’”

“Well, there are several diet teas offered online, but she has no monetary transactions reflecting that kind of purchase. Most of these are just over priced laxatives and rather dangerous to take as a diet supplement, I can’t imagine her parents buying them for her. None of their recent purchases reflect any of these teas either way,” Phil droned on, piercing holes in Bree’s excuse.

“I doubt Faction would actually buy into 21st diet fads, so I don’t think she used Historian training to cover her tracks. She definitely made it up to get away from Grace,” Carly suggested.

“She lied about why she refused the water, could she have known it was drugged?” Mac reasoned out.

“No, I never even got a chance to even pull the bottle out. There’s no way she could have known it was tampered with,” Grace went over what happened.

“Well she certainly knew not to accept it and to escape…could she know you’re a Traveler and didn’t want to accept it as a precaution?” Carly trying to think of Bree’s motivation.

“Not unless there’s another mole…could Traveler 0029 had given her a list of known Travelers?”

There was no way to confirm either way, but it was a rather daunting idea if there was a list of known Travelers and how much harder their lives could be because of it.

“Well that certainly makes things harder, if she knows who Travelers are and by sight…she knew to case us and Grace is an unauthorized jump,” the likelihood becoming more and more believable.

“What’s the plan? If she knows who we are…”

“Then we need someone who has jumped recently, someone after Traveler 0029 had been executed,” Carly suggested, the tactician making logical connections. “If she is some deep undercover Faction, then her connection to the future is gone. The most she would know is potential hosts, she wouldn’t have knowledge of who the Director is sending currently.”

MacLaren nodded his agreement, going over potential teams that could help them.

“Do we have permission to gather more Travelers for this mission?” he didn’t direct the question to anyone specific, but he knew the computers were always running and therefore the Director could always hear them.

Yes. Protocol 6 is suspended until we capture the Host known as Bree Hatch, the computer showed.

“Then I think we should bring Victoria in, she has the resources of the Seattle police. If we can’t kidnap Bree, maybe we could bring her in for questioning.”

“On what charge?” Trevor asked, wondering how arresting her would be a good plan.

“We won’t be arresting her. She’s recently been active in the community. She’s not afraid of publicity. She’s in papers for her garden, maybe we can use this new ‘walking club’ to our advantage. Maybe lure her in by wanting to commend her for her pro-active and smart program. Maybe ask her to be the face for expanding it to other schools.”

“We get her into the police station, then what? It’s not like we could knock her out there. I’m sure non-Travelers would see her. And I highly doubt she wouldn’t tell people where she was going, at the very least her parents.”

“No, but we can lay the ground work to get her to trust at least one of us. Once we have her trust, we can lead her to where we want her to be and then we can plan a better kidnapping.”

“I doubt Victoria will appreciate having to have to take a hit to Seattle PD’s reputation by having a teen kidnapped on their watch for a program to specifically avoid kidnapping.”

“She’ll get over it, we’ve all had to do uncomfortable and even embarrassing things for the Grand Plan.”

They all grimaced, thinking of their most embarrassing encounters.

* * *

 

Bree found herself in an interrogation room, that had raised a red flag with her.

“Why are we in an interrogation room?”

The young intern that had showed her in, blushed as it was rather odd. It was only his first week and he didn’t have any idea what he was doing. Even the simple task of showing someone in was rife with issues.

“Yeah,” he breathed out heavily, nervous about answering without sounding like a half-wit.

_Oh God, she must think I’m an idiot._

Bree smiled, trying to calm him down. She just wanted answers to the odd situation.

“They said all the regular conference rooms are booked, so we have to use the interrogation rooms. You’re not like in trouble or anything.”

She looked to the two-way mirror, wondering if there was anyone behind it. She tried to strain, leaning slightly towards the mirror but she didn’t actually know how to boost her power. She either heard people’s thoughts or she didn’t. She couldn’t hear anything, so the room on the other side was either empty or her powers didn’t extend.

The intern’s explanation sounded like it was plausible, so she shrugged her shoulders and accepted it. She went over her head the potential conversation she could have. She was excited to expand her program. While her initial motivation was to avoid being kidnapped by pod people, she thought that it was still a good idea for all the other type of kidnappers or attackers. It was a sad state of affairs where they needed such a program, but she was glad to make walking home just a little safer.

MacLaren hid behind the two-way mirror, wanting to bear witness to the questioning and was there to give tips to the new Traveler.

“Testing, this is Traveler 3468. Do you read me?” he tapped on his com to turn it on. He trusted Trevor’s work completely, but it was always smart to test.

“This is Traveler 6248, I hear you loud and clear,” an unfamiliar voice rang through the Team’s head. The rest of MacLaren’s team and all of Hall’s team were back at Ops, observing the camera feed from Phil’s station.

“Alright, the target is relaxed. She has taken the water, which is not drugged.”

Grace rolled her eyes but was thankful she was at least invited to this mission. And it wasn’t due to her constant whining, she was sure of it.

“She didn’t react to the intern who is not a Traveler. So that is our baseline. We will first send in Traveler 3185, see if she reacts. Then we will send in Traveler 6248 in, he’s just arrived last week. So, there’s no way for her to know him.”

Victoria who had also been tapped into their feed took her cue to enter the room.

“Hi, I’m officer Victoria Boyd,” she introduced herself to Bree, leagues more natural than Grace.

Grant muttered his instructions, letting Victoria know what to expect and what to look for.

Bree looked like a deer caught in headlights, she automatically went through the motions of shaking the woman’s hand, but her heart was thundering in her chest.

_Shit, they’ve infiltrated the police…what do I do?!_

“Hi…” her voice broke slightly and she coughed to get hear bearings, “I’m Bree…” she stared at the bottled water she drank, wondering if it had been drugged.

“Well, it’s clear she knows Victoria is a Traveler,” Mac said into their comms. He observed as Traveler 3185 went on as if she didn’t sense anything was amiss. Bree answered questions when asked, but it was clear she was twitchy and looking for ways to escape.

Unexpectedly, another officer came into the room,

“Sorry to interrupt you, but the conference room is free; no idea what the confusion was about but it’s been…”

“That’s **great** ,” Bree jumped up, almost bulldozing the officer down in her attempt to get out of the interrogation room. “It’s just that this room is so small, it’s kind of claustrophobic and all of that…”

Both adults looked at her askance for difference reasons and MacLaren cursed behind the two-way mirror that he wouldn’t have eyes on the interview.

“Phil?”

“I’m on it,” and the Historian quickly tapped on the keyboard and quickly thought of another way to view Bree’s behavior. He was able to easily hack into the station’s computer system and they were up to date enough to have VTC capabilities in all conference rooms. Phil quickly programed all the cameras to point where he wanted them to be and the microphones were live.

Bree was escorted into a room, and the team all focused on the live feed.

“OK, she’s in the room and Victoria has excused herself. We’ll be sending in Traveler 6248, known as Charles Anderson, to finish up the meeting. She looks really spooked boss, I don’t think we’ll be able to get her back into the station,” Carly narrated to Mac and was proven right when the newly arrived Traveler had barely been able to introduce himself before Bree tensed again and quickly made her excuses to leave.

“OK, Charles, we want you to try to calm her down. We need to get her to trust at least you,” MacLaren urged the new Traveler.

“You know? I just don’t think I’ll have time to really spear head this program…I have so many other clubs, and it’s already established at Fairview. And it’s like really easy, it’s basically just the buddy system…I’m sure you could start another program in other schools really easily,” Bree wanted to get out of there immediately, the new officer was also a pod person and apparently they were trying to get her alone. If she didn’t escape, she was certain she would pass out and make their jobs easier.

“Well…maybe if I could get your information…” he tried to salvage the situation as best he could.

“You guys already have it.”

“How about contact information for someone else at Fairview, someone with time?” Traveler 6248 thought maybe they could get more of a presence in the school. “It’s just such a good program, I would hate for it to fizzle out.”

Bree bit her lip, wondering if she should give out a random name. Maybe if the aliens had someone else, they would stop hounding her. Part of her suspected that maybe the pod people were interested in her because of her recent publicity with the walking program and other clubs.

_Damn it, I should have just ignored those stupid dreams. If I was still a nobody, then they wouldn’t want my damn body. They probably think I could lure even more people to be pods…if that was the case then why did they have Trevor quit football? None of this makes sense!_

But guilt started to rumble in her stomach, a cramp threatened to keel her over.

_I can’t do that to someone…I just have to hope they move on…_

“I don’t know anyone off the top of my head, but I’ll ask around and get back to you,” although she had no intention of doing so and rushed out of the building.

* * *

 

Back at Ops, there wasn’t a happy Traveler to be seen.

“Well, we’re 0-3 on getting this Faction. Are we sure the Director doesn’t want to try to convince her to lead the team? Clearly we’re outgunned,” Hall rubbed salt into the wound of their failure.

“Shut up Hall,” MacLaren was not in the mood to deal with the other Traveler’s sass. “We don’t have time for you to be a smart-ass. We clearly have a mole, another **fucking** mole.”

His team flinched at his rage when he kicked a chair, although they could understand as it seemed there was a never-ending stream of those who were adamant about disrupting the Grand Plan and keeping the future the dire cesspit it was that they left.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Grace didn’t want to believe it, she was certain the Director would have gotten rid of all the moles when it did that farce of a trial of her. But there was also the chance that one had emerged as the future was always changing with every mission they accomplished.

“Then please, explain how this Faction not only knew Victoria but also Charles was a Traveler? Someone who hadn’t jumped to the 21st until a week ago.”

Grace remained silent when she couldn’t come up with an answer, so she knew that if in her own genius mind couldn’t come up with something other than a leak, then it was probably the likely reason.

“There’s something off,” Trevor insisted, something within his gut had told him since the beginning.

“You think?”

“I swear to God Hall, if you don’t shut the fuck up I will shoot you point blank. Trevor, what do you mean?”

“This Faction supposedly has impeccable computer skills. We can’t find **anything** other than sloppy Google searches that link her at all to the Future…”

“Well there are those drawing,” Carly reminded him.

“Which a Faction would be foolish to draw in the first place,” he reasoned. “What we’ve found linking her to the future are amateur mistakes. If she is setting a trap, what is she waiting for? Nothing has happened to **us** or to any mission. And she’s been here for months, known about **us** specifically for months and **nothing** has happened. As far as we can tell, she has left us alone and hasn’t done anything to change the future; at least not on other Faction levels. What we do see is when confronted by other Travelers, she is terrified.”

“We’re clearly on her trail, at any moment she could be over written,” Marcy suggested, knowing all too well how easily their lives could be over.

“In that case, why stick around? If she’s a Historian then she knows where to get easy and quick money. Why not move to the middle of nowhere? Spurn technology and live a simple life? Even a life without any technology is still better than what we left behind. It’ll be decades before anything truly terrible happens since we averted Helios 685. She could literally live out her life in luxury. She clearly doesn’t care about disrupting the Grand Plan beyond taking a Host not meant for her.”

“So what are you saying?” MacLaren wanted to know what Trevor’s point as they had gone over this already.

“I think we need to think outside of her being a Traveler.”

“What else could she be?”

That was still the question that plagued him.

“Maybe she’s psychic.”

That’s what got Hall kicked out of Ops, laughing at Grant’s red face and he was certain if the Director didn’t have Protocol 3 then he would have had a bullet between his eyes. Luca and Kyle following their team leader out of loyalty and figuring they weren’t getting anywhere with the plan anyway.

The rest argued through the night, trying to come up with other ways to get her alone. They all did not want to have to come to the Director and tell it that they may have to skip straight to over writing her, and they’d never know how a Historian could go rouge which was out of the question. They needed to know how she did it, because if it could be done once then it could be done again.

If they had failed anymore missions, they wondered if the Director could feel anger and overwrite them all in frustration.

* * *

 

Kyle, Traveler 5532, still didn’t have the hang of the 21st. Everything was so much brighter, the air was clear, and there was so much life. He didn’t understand how the teams could focus on missions when all he wanted to do was live the life he could only have dreamed of. He wanted to experience all the joys the 21st had to offer. It took everything in him to not skip school and go on hikes or steal his host’s parents’ credit cards and binge eat at every restaurant in Seattle. But then maybe that very life was the reason Travelers worked so hard on missions. It was because of them that this life may even survive in the future.

When he first got there, his missions seemed simple enough and Hall wasn’t one to keep his company beyond what was necessary. So, Kyle had plenty of time to enjoy the 21st between assignments. He wished his latest one wasn’t so difficult or weird. Part of him understood a Traveler defecting, preferring to live their lives in the past. Perhaps after the completing the Helios mission, which was the focus of traveling back in time to begin with, and finding that nothing had changed—that had proven too much for Bree. Maybe she lost faith in the Grand Plan and despaired that the future she left was inevitable.

It was something that had crossed his mind. They had averted Helios. They had all these other missions that moved the path to the future to where they wanted it and they still had the Grand Plan. They were still all there.

Would a better future ever come?

Part of him felt that maybe at this point, Bree had earned her retirement and ought to be left alone. The teams had admitted it themselves, she had never interfered with the Grand Plan. From what they could see, she didn’t even use her knowledge as a Historian for personal gain, she was living out Protocol 5 to the point that they had doubts she was even from the future to begin with.

He had to believe they had to have better things to do than hassle a so far harmless Faction.

Both teams had spent hours going over different plans, each listing every resource they had at their disposal.

Grant had the FBI. Marcy had the hospital and access to drugs. Phil could hack into any computer system. Victoria and Charles had the Seattle Police Department.

Even with all of that, Bree had managed to evade them all.

None of them seemed to have the element of surprise as she seemed to know who Travelers were, even recent arrivals. They had to figure out a way to nab her without implicating anyone on their team or endangering innocent bystanders.  

The last resort plan was to ask the Director for a Traveler specifically just for this mission. One that could jump to the 21st and then skip town right after kidnapping Bree to avoid doing jailtime. They would basically be asking for someone to directly forever break Protocol 5. They couldn’t imagine the Director would be too happy to waste a Traveler just to get one Faction member.

Kyle wondered if he would be chewed out if he suggested that they ignore Bree until she actually proved to be detrimental to the Grand Plan. He laughed at the thought of the Director making all the computers explode in its anger at such a plan, it having a clear history of hating loose ends and unaccounted for variables.

Everything had to be accounted for and planned to even the most minute detail, it was how the Director was programed and it was the only way the Traveler Program could function.

Protocol 5 was a pain at times, it not only interfered with missions but some 21st customs were utterly ridiculous—such as mandatory attendance to high school. While the mission always took precedence, they still had to deal with the consequences of the host’s life. MacLaren wasn’t too keen to have Hall’s team involved with Bree, so Kyle was stuck at school and he still had several detentions to attend for skipping school to kidnap Anna Hamilton. He wished he could tell the teachers he had saved the 53rd President of the United States, that really ought to excuse his truancy.

But he couldn’t and he had to deal with the consequences of putting the mission before his host’s obligations.

Perhaps if the Director could think on the fly and improvise, it would appreciate how random chaos could bring about exactly what they wanted. A 1 in a 1,000,000 chance was still a chance.

Kyle had just finished detention and wanted to go home to get his homework over with. He didn’t understand why the school just made him sit in a room and do nothing productive. It was a massive waste of time, even if he weren’t a time traveler with a mission to save humanity.

But his detention put him in the school, in the exact hallway at the exact moment Bree left the art center. The hallways were empty, and most had left for the day and anyone who was on school grounds were in their respective clubs or in various sports fields across campus. She was distracted by something in her hands, they appeared to be sketches.

Kyle couldn’t think of what to do as he did not think he would be alone with the Faction, he wasn’t the tactician of the group. He was really just a body for Hall’s team. So instead of trying to think of the most reasonable and clever thing to do, he did what came naturally to him which was to put her in a headlock and cut off the oxygen to her brain until she passed out.

_Shit…I really shouldn’t have done that._

But it was already done, he frantically looked around the hall to see if anyone had witnessed his attack on Bree. Thankfully it was just as empty as it had been a minute ago. Now he just had to decide what to do with a passed-out girl. He pushed the subdermal communication device just behind his ear,

“You guys, I have Bree Hatch.”

“What the fuck do you mean you have Bree Hatch?” Hall’s gruff voice echoed in his ear.

“I had detention, the school is mostly empty, and I happened to come across her. I knocked her out and now she’s in the middle of the east wing hallway passed out.”

“Christ kid, get her somewhere hidden. What did they teach you in the future?” He would have thought that would be the first thing he would have done, not come calling them with an unconscious girl where anyone could come across them.

“I’ll call Marcy and the MacLaren team,” Luca chimed in while Kyle dragged Bree to an empty classroom and hoped no one would come across them.

“The hell we’re calling those idiots in. This is our catch.”

“This isn’t a catch, this is a mission that both teams are on. And if you forgot, we have no medic and the kid knocked her out.”

Hall huffed but couldn’t dismiss Luca’s point.

“Fine, call those uppity douches and we’ll meet him at the school.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that, we still have records **and** were seen trying to grab the girl already. If we’re seen there and she’s reported as missing, we can probably count on another stint in jail.”

“ **Fine**. Kid, can you keep tight until MacLaren’s team gets to you?”

“Yeah,” Kyle’s voice was shaky, he still couldn’t believe he had just knocked her out and dragged her to a classroom. If anyone caught him, he was pretty sure he would have a jail cell right next to Coach Perry. “I can text Trevor, maybe we can get her out of here. He knows the school better than I do.”

“Fine, do that. We’ll let you know of an ETA for the rest of the team.”

Kyle texted Trevor and hoped the older Traveler had an idea of how to get them all out of there without being seen. This was probably the worst thing any of them could do,

“But at least I actually got her. Out of everyone’s plans, my non plan is the one that worked.”

Although Bree couldn’t hear him, he was certain she would agree that while it was impulsive and crude, he got the job done.

* * *

 

Bree woke slowly, her heard hurt and she blinked sluggishly as it took a while to get a full sense of where she was. When she realized she had no idea where she was, she got up quickly from a rickety cot. She regretted that immediately as the world started to spin around her.

A blonde woman quickly ran to her,

“How are you feeling?”

Bree wasn’t sure how to respond, still too dizzy to answer.

“Where am I?”

Marcy did a cursory exam, even though the teen was their hostage, it would be no good if the girl was too sick to answer their questions. There didn’t seem to be any permanent damage as Bree’s eyes started to focus and just needed a few more moments to get her bearings.

Once the room stopped spinning, Bree took inventory of where she was. The walls where beige cement and she was in some sort of clear cube prison in the middle of a warehouse.

She suddenly had an adrenaline spike as she realized that she had been kidnapped and the person in front of her was one of the people she had stalked those months ago. Bree backed away from her as quickly as she could, stumbling over the cot and ran into a chair. Her back then hit one of the invisible walls, the material not like anything she had seen or felt before. It was harder and slicker than plastic but didn’t reverberate like glass. She turned and hit the wall as hard as she could, hoping to be able to break out but whatever it was, it seemed to absorb her hits. When she turned around to the blonde woman, she had somehow got out of the cube. Bree could not see any seams or even a door,

_Holy shit, alien technology. They’re going to replace me._

She started to hyperventilate, no matter how much she tried to breath it never seemed to be enough. Her heart beating too fast for her body to keep up with.

She saw that everyone she had stalked before where there, the whole team of people Trevor had hung out with. Then there were the two guys she recognized from the old car that had tried to kidnap her. They were all in it together, including Kyle who she was certain was not a pod person but she realized that she had not been around him recently to hear his thoughts. The run in during the bake sale, she had only been focused on Trevor and hadn’t heard anything from him.

The memory of running into him had rushed to her, he had seemed surprised to see her. As helpful as her power had been, it didn’t work against those who didn’t have a plan and conveniently thought about it in time for her to avoid them. He had not planned for her to run into him and he took advantage of the situation. She was not ready for him to attack her, and even if she had she doubted she would have been able to overpower or even outrun him.

She also saw there was a console of computers set up, with at least three cameras she could see pointed straight at her.

Trevor got the gut feeling again that they were missing something, every reaction Bree had demonstrated so far felt utterly genuine. He didn’t know anyone who could feign such fear and the whole situation didn’t feel right. But he wasn’t the team lead and regardless, the Director wanted her interrogated. Whether or not she was Faction, she at the very least had knowledge of the future that needed to be addressed.

“We need to calm her down or she’ll pass out,” Marcy told them as she read Bree’s vitals, the girl’s heart rate through the roof.

“She’s faking, just tell her to cut it out,” Hall was skeptical.

“You can’t fake tachycardia,” she was rather irritated at his presence and his doubt of her abilities not to mention how many of the devices around them were beeping.

“Marcy, sedate her,” Grant told her, not wanting to waste time. It would be better if the Faction was fully conscious but drugged out was better than passed out.

Thanks to future technology, they had a specific gun that could shoot through the invisible barrier. Carly was their best shot and took the loaded tranq gun from Marcy and before Bree could react, she was shot in her shoulder. The drugs started to work immediately, everything slowed down and became hazy. She slid to the floor and her head felt so heavy she had a hard time keeping it up.

_All those movies were right, hazy bright lights and dark forms above._

What Bree saw in her drugged induced state were regular lights in a prison made from the future, the figures were MacLaren’s team as they hauled her back to the cot.

“What did you do to my bones? I need my bones,” Bree slurred out as she tried to raise her arm but it just felt lipid and floppy.

Trevor thought he deserved a special place in hell, but he couldn’t help but think it was rather cute how loopy she was.

“Your bones are fine, we just had to sedate you because you were having a panic attack,” he said as gently as he could. He made sure she was tucked in safely on the cot, ignoring Hall’s scoffing and glad Phil was there to help him. The other Traveler he could trust to also take care with their prisoner, even if she were Faction that didn’t mean they had to turn into monsters.

Marcy hovered over her, checking her pupils and making sure the dosage wasn’t too strong as to cause irreparable harm.

Bree didn’t appreciate even brighter lights in her eyes, she weakly tried to slap Marcy’s hand away,

“I don’t like it.”

The Traveler just rolled her eyes, feeling like she was in any 21st hospital room and taking care of an unwilling patient.

“Can we still question her?” Mac asked, hoping they didn’t just blow the mission. He had hoped they could get their answers and overwrite the Faction the same night. The new Traveler could make up a quick excuse and have everything be blamed on teen rebellion. Anything longer would be trickier.

“We can try, but it’s not really a truth serum,” Marcy replied honestly.

“Fuck…it’s better than nothing,” he hoped the Director was conveniently not watching them.

_This is such a shit show._

“Traveler, what is your designation?” Grant asked Bree when Phil and Trevor left the prison.

“My pronouns are ‘she’ and ‘her.’”

That was not the answer they were expecting, they had all frowned and looked puzzled at one another. They didn’t necessarily think she would come straight out with her Traveler number, they were more expecting denials or being told to fuck themselves.

So baffled, it took Grant a minute to compose himself and try again.

“How did you get here?” he felt that was a straightforward and simple question.

“You kidnapped me, idiot.”

Hall snorted, one upside to MacLaren being in charge is that it wasn’t his fault when it all went wrong. The Director had no one to blame but the other’s team, although he was fair minded enough to know that he probably wouldn’t have done much better.

“The 21st century, how did you get to the **21 century**?” he gritted out.

Phil had an uneasy feeling of déjà vu as Grant went back and forth with Bree. It wasn’t that long ago that he, Trevor, Marcy, and Carly had been stuck in a warehouse, drugged, and asked questions pertaining to the future. Certainly Bree was treated much better as she was not locked to a wheelchair with a catheter and intravenous fluids, but it still brought back all those horrible memories.

Memories he recalled with striking clarity and was genetically bred to be unable to forget.

He knew this was important to the Director, to the Grand Plan so he took deep breaths to keep calm. He was glad he wasn’t hooked up to any device as he was certain his heart rate would give him away. He felt a warm hand and gentle squeeze to his shoulder, he looked up from his monitors and saw Trevor’s encouraging smile. The eldest Traveler could tell he was struggling, and while they could not abandoned their post to take a minute to gather themselves, at least they could show their support in small ways; he didn’t think Trevor would ever know how much it meant to him, but Phil would remember to always try to be kind; even to people who were their enemies.

“This isn’t working, she’s higher than CO2 parts per million in the 25th, she’s just spouting nonsense,” Grace opined, getting frustrated by their lack of results.  

Grant clenched his jaw, unwilling to admit defeat just yet. He wondered if more drugs could possibly get her to unwittingly tell the truth or if they should wait until she was a little soberer, but not enough that she would go into another panic attack.

Unfortunately, the Director was also losing patience (as much as a quantum computer could) and told them,

Stand by for D13

“Shit, that’s Derek,” Marcy reminded them of the specialized doctor from the future. None of them were too keen on having special help brought in because of their failure, but they were also slightly fearful of what a doctor from the 25th would have that they wouldn’t already have with Marcy.

“This is such a shit show,” Grace lamented into her hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess, I haven't seen the new season. I'm mostly not emotionally ready for it because some on tumblr have made it seem gut wrenching and I need happier things in my life right now. lol Also, I wanted to get through this chapter without the new season colouring it too much as I had a plan. So hopefully I will watch the new season and not have it totally kill my muse for this story or take it a complete different direction.

**Author's Note:**

> So first time doing an OFC, hope you like her. lol Please let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Thanks for reading and please review. Please also note that I will answer any questions from here on my tumblr or I may do an "Author's Commentary" for this fic. I don't like that AO3 counts replies as "comments." I think it gives the story a false reading/review stat. Any "thank yous" will be acknowledged in the note of the next chapter. I won't answer questions via notes because that could potentially cause them to be longer than the chapter itself and nobody got time for that. :-D


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